


Trailing Eyes

by Goodbyemyfancy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fantasizing, Flirting, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodbyemyfancy/pseuds/Goodbyemyfancy





	Trailing Eyes

It was the start of term, and after a summer away from Hogwart's, the students were finally back in school. It was the first day of their advanced spells class, and the students of Gryffindor and Slytherin had been asked to demonstrate a particularly difficult spell they were supposed to have learned over the summer.

Draco went first, crinkling his pale forehead in deep concentration as he chanted his spell, hands clasped tightly in front of him. Focused inwardly, his eyes partially closed, his normally rosy lips pressed tight together in a straight hard line. Softly blowing with pursed lips through his opening palms, frantic wings erupted from within his cupped hands. Draco flung his hands onwards, allowing the white dove its freedom. He watched it fly around the room, eyes shadowed and far away. Then, seeing the dove escape through an opened upper window, he snapped back to the present, and his eyes danced in delight, his slender face pleased with the success of his spell.

From across the room, Harry stared at his enemy's lips with fascination. From the moment Draco opened his mouth to cast the spell and blow on his hands, Harry had been hooked. He could not help but notice every fine detail of the experience, each movement and breathe of Draco's seen as if up close.

Draco's fair hair had grown out over the summer holidays, and now hung longer, framing his stunningly cold but beautiful eyes. He no longer slicked it back as he had in his youth, instead, it hung forward, soft and fine and wispy long. As he aged, the colour kept lightening, turning whiter with each passing year. And he had grown taller, still slender, yet filling out with hard muscles from years of Quiddich play. His fingers were long, almost feminine with their smoothness. And where his robes had fallen back as he cast his spell, his slender wrists were elegant and regal, white as alabaster. He wore a large gold ring on his right hand, perhaps to call attention to these limber and nimble fingers of his.

And his face ... Draco's lips were pink and slightly swollen from his constant gnawing on them while practicing in potions under Snape's proud glare. Harry knew, he surreptitiously watched Draco as chewed on them in their shared class earlier. He could not help himself, it was Draco's lips that had always captivated him, from the very day they had first met.

Now, he closely watched as Draco licked his lips slowly, like a pleased cat after a feast. Harry imagined what it would be like to slowly lick those deadly lips himself, lips that had said so much venom to him over the years. He imagined their softness, pressing against him, eager and willing, Draco's voice as he softly muttered Harry's name over and over, kissing his lips, his face, his neck. Draco would finally submit, opening his mouth to take in Harry's tongue, and Harry would explore that mysterious cavern of delights to his heart's content. He would bite at Draco's roughened lips, nipping at then to keep them swollen and reddened. And then Draco would nip back, sharp white ferret teeth that would cut into Harry's neck, leaving small bruises as proof of their contact ...

Harry shook himself, as he always did when contemplating Draco's lips. It revolted him, filled Harry with shame and disgust that he so deeply desired the one person that caused him so much pain and fear over the years, to himself and to his dearest friends. But Harry could not help himself, he was hooked on Draco, and Draco's lips were his downfall.

Over the years, he tried avoiding looking at his enemy's lips, but it inevitably failed. Draco was always in his face, screwing up his life, and Harry could no more stop looking at him then he could stop seeing the sun.

Draco suddenly glanced at Harry, a glance quite unreadable from across the room. Their eyes locked and silent sparks flew as Draco realized Potter was watching him. They had spent years glaring at each other, unfriendly cats hissing at each other from across the room. But today, today the air was different, and something was afoot. Caught staring by Draco, Potter blushed bright scarlet red, a blush rising like dawn across the morning sky.

The Slytherin teen was amazed, seeing the flush darken Potter's typically sallow face. Potter was his enemy, why would he be blushing from looking at Draco? And then Harry looked back at him again, and the lust was so open in his emerald green eyes that the blonde knew not how to react. He felt dizzy, confused. He swallowed hard, watching Harry, watching him. This was different, this was certainly no cat fight. This was ... something else, something foreign, something scary. And not knowing what it was terrified Draco. He was always in control, always had the power to shape the world to his own needs. But Harry, and the look in his eyes, that was something Draco could not control, could not even begin to sort out in his mind. He tried to think of something else, anything else except what that look had meant.

To Draco, Potter had always looked like a bug, soft, weak, and ready to squash. Potter's surprising interior strength over the years constantly baffled and enraged Draco. Victims should not be that strong, not in Draco's world.

And now that Potter was back from the holidays, Draco was dismayed to notice his foe had also filled out, his slight frame more toned and developed. When he had first started at Hogwarts, no one had realized to what degree he had been starved while living with those backwards muggle relatives of his. For those first few years, Harry ate ravenously at every meal, and with the energy he burned as Seeker, he had to eat constantly so as to not lose weight. But in his late adolescence, his metabolism had finally caught up with him, and he lost that waifish look. Now, Potter was growing into his own and it suited him. Really suited him. Potter was looking quite delectable these days.

And with a rush, Draco realized Harry was still watching him, while he had been sitting there brazenly checking Harry's body out, lost in his thoughts on how Harry had grown. Potter had a startled look on his face, which become an open grin when he caught Draco's eyes again.

Now Draco felt like blushing, but controlled himself. That bastard kept smiling at him, and it would never do to have Draco reveal the powerful effect Potter just had on him. But it seemed like Potter knew, because as the two boys kept staring at each other, Potter slowly opened his mouth as if to yawn, then teasingly ran his tongue across his lower lip before lightly biting down. Draco watched spellbound, unable to tear his eyes away, as the pink tip of Harry's tongue emerged again from his mouth to lick at his upper lip, leaving it wet and glistening under the classroom lights.

Draco could barely swallow, his mouth had suddenly turned so dry. He was glad for the mandatory robes the students all had to wear, because in his present state, the whole class would have been able to see how his own body betrayed him, becoming violently aroused at the sight of Harry licking his lips. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, only to be rewarded with a smirk from Harry.

Draco was the first to look away, glancing down at his opened spell book, wondering what to think. What was Potter playing at? Why was he looking at him, why was he licking his lips? Was this a new form of torture, a new way for his muggle-loving foe to drive him mad? But then Draco remembered Harry's blush at being caught out looking at Draco. Maybe the lust that Draco thought he saw in those green eyes was actually true.

But when Draco looked up again, it was as nothing had happened, Harry talking softly with that mudblood witch Hermione again and not looking at him. Draco shook his head, hair falling forward into his eyes, trying to clear out his confusion. What had just happened? Was it a dream? From under the hidden shadows of his bangs, he checked Potter again, and yes, the blush was still there, slowly fading away. It was real.


End file.
